I can still picture myself in sixth grade, sitting in the library, reading Alice Hoffman’s "At Risk". I can still see the way the light filtered in through the glass, bouncing off the walls covered with books.
Read a Poem
I find it strange that in our troubled world, I should be trying to convince you to read a poem.
Autumn Lines
Verdure shifts into cranberry, pumpkin, corn-colored sparks and ascends into memory; rain-soaked bark
Verotchka
In my ongoing project of reading all of Chekhov’s stories, I am more than halfway along, and I have come upon this small gem about Ognev and Vera.
Secrets and Dreams
Ruby was resentful whenever Don arranged an evening with one of his post-docs, especially if it happened to be with Valerie and her husband Caleb. She wasn’t sure why; there was just something about Val. Maybe it was the tight tee shirts or the way she clicked with Don intellectually. Ruby’s stomach always let her know. It knotted up as soon as he suggested having dinner with them. But here they were again at Shorty’s, a sports bar on the trendy Park Hill side of Denver at 7:30 on a Saturday night, about to meet Valerie and Caleb.
A Writer’s Signature
The signature of my voice struck me. I was prone to metaphor—Flowered petticoats beneath a rough- hewn skirt: a study of Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author— was the title of one such paper.